Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Eritrea and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Shuggie Otis to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sonic Youth,
Rites of Spring,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
Colin Newman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Evens,
Ralphi Rosario,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Görl,
Sandy B,
Surgeon,
Make Up,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Stetsasonic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dual Sessions,
Josef K,
UT,
Los Fastidios,
World's Most,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Teasers,
Bang On A Can,
Pharoah Sanders,
Main Source,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Womack,
Procol Harum,
Faust,
Magma,
Intrusion,
These Immortal Souls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
LL Cool J,
Tommy Roe,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Lucky Dragons,
Swell Maps,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Niagra,
Lower 48,
Animal Collective,
Whodini,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cymande,
Easy Going,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
Ronnie Foster,
Graham Central Station,
Excepter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bronski Beat,
Funkadelic,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.